


Dead Men Don't Talk

by renegadeartist



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Multi, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Themes of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadeartist/pseuds/renegadeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is a man that has always been able to see the dead.</p><p>Gavin is someone who's only ever been able to see the living.</p><p>A chance meeting, wishes and secrets and regrets are shared, and a friendship blooms. But sometimes the dead don't know when to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which we learn how seeing the dead can affect your childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since a lot of people wanted me to I decided to continue this story. BUT in a year a lot of progress can be made in writing skill, so I've decided to rewrite the first two chapters. The next few chapters will be longer but updates will be irregular since I'm still writing my king au.

Ryan was a man trapped. By what was anyone’s guess. He wasn’t an open person, he didn’t talk about his inner desires or wishes or even the old lady waving to him across the street that no one else could see.  He didn’t react to the whispers of people around him, the whispers of “Who is he talking to?” and “Doesn’t he realize he’s alone?” He didn’t want to give people any more material to ridicule him for, so he didn’t talk about the people that he could see that other people couldn’t. He used to, but had long since learned his lesson.

As a child with no barriers for his thoughts everything came pouring out of his mouth. Did you know that our house used to belong to a grumpy old man who hated company but adored hearing children laughing? Did you know that my school had to be rebuilt after a fire? Have you ever met our neighbor’s daughter? Yes, of course she has one. I talk to her all the time. Did you know, did you know, did you know?

His parents always humored him, assuming it was the overactive imagination of a child. They laughed at jokes they couldn’t hear and let him be when he talked to the air. When the room got colder or something moved that shouldn’t have they just assumed it was the wind blowing or the cat messing around. While they smiled at their son’s antics they never believed him or thought it would last. It was just a quirk he would grow out of with age. It was nothing to worry about, they said repeatedly, he’s just being a kid.

Soon enough, though, it stopped being fun or adorable. Soon he crossed a line that he shouldn’t have crossed, though how was he to know, as young as he was? The day his mom came home with smeared makeup and a bottle of something that didn’t look like soda was the day his life changed forever. The small hiccups of sound didn’t translate as a need to be alone to a child’s mind. It was something unfamiliar, something strange that he needed to learn about.

“Mom?” he asked innocently, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. There was only one thing he understood, and it was the absence of a parental figure. “Where’s dad? He’s coming home soon, right? Right?”

There was no sound but the sloshing of the liquid in the bottle and the soft crying coming from his mother. Confused, Ryan stepped forward, trying to comfort her. As soon as his hand made contact with her back he felt a sting on his cheek and a hysterical widow yelling at him. "No, he's not! He's not coming back, he's not coming home! He's... oh, God, he's gone, he's dead." As his mother sunk to the ground Ryan felt tears gather in his eyes. Looking back he couldn't have blamed her for her behavior, after all, a death is a terrible thing for people who can't talk to the departed.

He didn't blame her for that night, but he blamed her for the subsequent years. He blamed her for the hell she put him through, and no amount of words would sway his decision. He was a child; he was a victim of circumstance. No amount of neglect on his mother’s part could bring her husband back. When his dad sat at the end of his bed that night he tried his best to console his son. "Don't blame your mother. She probably misses me a lot. It's... it's complicated. When people die they leave behind something. Sometimes it's a house, sometimes it's a history, but most of the time it's a family. People die every day and people are forgotten, but there is always someone out there, someone with a hole in their hearts that may or may never be filled again that will always remember them. I guess that has to be you and your mother now. And when your mother dies it will be you."

"But why?" He had sniffled, rubbing the sore spot on his cheek. Death was far from an unexplored topic for him but it seemed surreal to be happening to him. The ghosts he talked to weren’t people he knew, they were strangers. It didn’t matter how they died or who they were because they didn’t care about him unless he was willing to help them. To have it happen to his father was something he had never considered in his few years of life. It seemed more permanent. "Why did you have to die? I don't want you to be gone."

His father shuffled his feet a bit, making no noise for he couldn’t exactly interact with the world as he normally would. As he pieced together the right words to help his son to understand the house was silent. "It's... hard to explain. People are horrendously selfish, and sometimes that selfishness pushes them to do things they wouldn't if they considered who would be affected. I'm sorry I didn't think about you or your mother tonight. I'm sorry I was selfish."

Ryan whipped his eyes roughly, forcing a smile on his face. He wanted to hug his dad, he wanted his mom there too. But he couldn't touch ghosts unless they touched him first and his mother was drowning in booze somewhere downstairs. "It's ok. I forgive you."

His father smiled. "That's all I needed to hear." He leaned over and ruffled Ryan's hair. That was the last time he had ever saw him. That was the last time his mother had looked at him with anything but contempt. That night she stormed into his room, her face red and her eyes wet.

"Stop it!" She shrieked. "This has gone on too long. Stop talking to people who aren't there! Stop acting like your father is still alive, stop it stop it stop it!"

He could never forgive her for that.

As an impressionable child who had just lost his father and whose mother was irreparably shattered his childhood quickly turned sour. His mother didn't look at him nor did she interact with him besides the microwavable meals he found when he got home from school. Even those stopped with time, though. He didn't have many living friends except for the cheery blonde named Barbara who managed to keep his head above the waterline. There were others, though Barbara was one of the only ones to stay even after she learned about a certain quirk of his.

The only other friend that stayed was the therapist his mother made them go to. She was a nice lady, friendly but not cheerful. Serious but able to laugh. She stopped questioning the ghosts in his head when he passed on a message from her dead husband. Her name was Griffon. She managed to keep a professional attitude though Ryan could tell their relationship had gone a bit farther then a doctor and a patient. Geoff clung to him for a long time after that.

As high school and even college passed the harsh reality that he would have to start making a living deceased upon him. He found a slightly isolated house just outside of the Austin city limits. It was perfect, and it even had a friendly ghost living there. His name was Jack and he had designed and built the house himself. Soon enough an add was placed in the newspaper for a medium and he found a job in a small company as an animator, editor, and just about any odd job they could assign him.

It was time to start living.


	2. In which Gavin is diagnosed with a broken heart.

Gavin was a man trapped. By what was a question everyone knew the answer to if they cared enough to learn. He was preoccupied with the matters of the living. The ones that were gone from the world, the ones who made his life a living hell, it didn’t matter. The people that passed by on the street were strangers but it didn’t stop him from wondering who they were, who they’d lost, or what they were late for on that particular day. People rarely liked him, and he rarely liked them, but it didn’t mean he didn’t find them interesting. Sometimes, though, they would take one look at him and decide who he was. If he tried to go against it… well, he didn’t try to anymore.

The coffee shop he worked at had a rotation of patrons throughout the day. It rarely changed, but whenever there was a stranger in the shop it was his job to learn who they were. There was Burnie, the busy businessman who always seemed to find the time to say hi to him every day. Kara always tried her best to smile and make his life as easy as possible but she was usually silent, content to work on her a stack of paperwork in the corner of the shop.

There were countess people who visited and had visited the shop, but there was always the odd one out that spoiled his whole day, or week depending on how bad the conversation was. J.J. was, on occasion, the worst. While he tried to keep a smile on at all times he still had to restrain himself from punching the man in the face. It was one of the few times when he didn’t take into account what could have happened to the other person to make them act that way.

Good thing the man had decided to skip his morning coffee. That had put Gavin in a fairly good mood and he whistled quietly as he wiped down the tables. It was a few hours before they closed, but there were rarely any after six or so at night unless it was from the local college during exams. It gave him time to think, though he rarely liked that kind of time. The silence usually rapidly turned ominous and his thoughts strayed to worse things.

He heard the bell over the door jingle and he looked up quickly, seeing a man eyeing the shop. Gavin couldn’t remember ever seeing him before, so he stood up and put on his best smile, hoping he was a better patron then J.J. At least a patron meant a few more minutes without silence. “Hello! Welcome to the Austin Coffee Shop, I’m Gavin.” It wasn’t the best name, obviously, but it was something. It was better then what his boss called it, though the city refused to have it validated.

The man stared at Gavin for a moment before a tentative smile appeared on his lips. He looked cute when he smiled. He felt his face heat up at that thought. He quickly scampered over to the counter, attempting to avoid eye contact with the man. “I’m Ryan,” he finally said, and it took a moment for Gavin to process that it had come from the man. His blue eyes were curious, though there was something sad behind them. He didn’t like that look.

He realized he was staring and felt his face heat up even further. “What, uh, what’ll you have?”

The silence stretched for too long in his opinion. Finally, after he had sat down on one of the rarely used barstools, he breathed in and said, “I’m not here for a drink.”

“Oh, well we have some pastries left over from today-“ He stopped talking when he saw the expression on Ryan’s face. He was a stranger, someone Gavin had just met, yet it was still easy to tell that something was bothering him. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. “A pastry is fine. Just… it doesn’t get any easier, you know?”

“Sure,” Gavin said, though he didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was talking about. He got out some of the left over pastries and put them on a plate along with a small paper cup of coffee. It was cold out, he would need something warm to drink. He froze when the man stoke again.

“Ever had a girlfriend, Gavin?”

He felt the paper bag he had put the pastry in crinkle in his hand. He was glad he wasn’t facing the man, since he could feel his eyes grow itchy. He wanted to curl into a ball, to throw the coffee at Ryan and tell him to leave, but he didn’t. He breathed in, trying to calm himself down. “I used to,” he finally ground out.

He shoved the pastry at him, a scowl on his face. He hoped it would convey how much he _really didn’t_ want to talk about it, but either Ryan was incredibly dense or he just didn’t care. “What was her name?”

He felt his nails dig into his palm. “It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t matter anymore. Not after… not after all that happened. It was over, he was over it. It had been so long since he had thought about her and… he felt himself start to break down. He missed her _so much,_ even after so much time had passed. The hole she left was still there, still sucking him in, even if he had tried to patch it closed. “Her name was Meg.”

“What happened to her?”

“Nothing. She’s fine.”

“No, she’s not.” He got up, leaving behind some cash to pay for the food. Gavin felt himself flinch when he stood up, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she misses you as much as you miss her.”

That was not the response he had been expecting. He had been expecting blind acceptance or absent empathy. He didn’t know how to respond, so all he said was, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Ryan stared at him, straight into his eyes. Gavin shifted a bit, feeling awkward. “She does, I’m sure of it. But I don’t think she’d approve of you blaming yourself for what happened. She’d want you to move on, just enough to get away from the sleepless nights and the Halo venting.” He stood up and started walking out the door. “See you some other time.”

Gavin was left in an empty coffee shop, alone but for a sudden chill on his lips that felt suspiciously like a kiss.


	3. In which Michael is having none of this ghost bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not happy with this chapter. I had a bad case of writer's block while outlining the chapter and it ended up taking way too long. I'll probably edit this chapter later or even change some plot points, I'm not sure. This fic is actually probably going to be a group of one shots instead of a coherent story. Tell me what you think, I'm always willing to hear feedback! Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the chapter.

The gravel crunched under the car's tires and the rain splattered across the glass of the windshields. The clouds were gray and the sky overcast. They were driving along an unfamiliar road in an unfamiliar part of Austin. He watched the trees speed by, a frown deeply etched into his face. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to be going to see some bullshit medium just because Ray thought it was a good idea. It wasn't like ghosts actually existed. People like that were only there to steal money from poor idiot’s wallets. Ray had only wanted to see if the guy was legit because he had seen an ad for it in the paper among the dull coupons for cat food or something. He didn’t look at the paper very often.

"This is dumb," he muttered into his arm, laying his head on it once again. He didn't want to go to some stranger’s house and ask them to talk to some fake spirit of a dead person, even if it was someone they all knew. He glared at a few drops of rain as if they were the reason all of this was happening. He felt Lindsay pat him on the back. “Pay attention to the road, dumbass,” he muttered halfheartedly. She just laughed.

He heard Ray shift in the back seat, poking his head between the seats. "Hey, don't knock it before you try it."

"This isn't a fucking beer with a pal, this is some bullshit magic from some bullshit guy who probably doesn't know the difference between a ghost and a cat.” When Ray didn’t say anything he continued,   
“The difference being the cat is real."

"Aw, don't act like that. Don't you think it would be cool if you could still talk to people that died?" Ray mumbled as the car started to slow down. Michael blinked. Oh, no, he was not doing this.

"Oh my God, dude. You don't actually believe this, do you?"

He rubbed his hands a bit, staring at the ground. He tried to avoid Michael’s glare for as long as possible. Finally he mumbled out a quiet, "Maybe."

“Hey, you never know, Michael. Maybe there is something after death. I mean it’s not like you’d know until you’re dead yourself. You could at least humor people who like to think that way.” Lindsay put the car in park and unlocked the doors. She didn’t look at Michael but he could tell she was smiling. Sometimes she was downright infuriating. “Besides, I bet you’d love to talk to your ghost buddy.”

Michael felt his face heat up. “I told you, it’s just the wind… or something. I don’t know. It’s not a ghost though.” He quickly got out of the car, hearing Lindsay laugh under her breath. He couldn’t belive that she would use that as a counterargument. Actually, he could believe it. She had been making fun of him for it since he told her about it.

He decided to ignore the idiot patrol. He looked around the place they had ended up, seeing a normal home. The yard was overgrown but not neglected. The house was small but it didn't look crowded. There was nothing to suggest anyone lived there except for the old truck that sat empty near the front door. For the most part it looked like a normal home for a normal person. He wasn’t sure what he expected from a person pretending to be able to talk to dead people but it sure wasn’t what he was seeing.

He walked up to the front door, hearing Ray and Lindsay following close behind. They walked up the wooden steps to a small porch. There was a chair on the far end that almost seemed to creak when they got to the door. Michael didn’t like how the house felt. It wasn’t exactly foreboding or anything; it just seemed too strange, though he didn’t know why. He knocked lightly on the door, not really committed to the idea of talking to a stranger just yet.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" He whispered to Ray. He couldn't help but feel like their whispered conversation wasn't going to stay between them. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure there was no one leaning over it. There was only Lindsay, and she was coaxing a cat out from under the porch.

"This is the address." Ray turned his attention to the opening door. It revealed a man staring at them expectantly. He looked normal enough. At the very least he didn’t look like a drug addict or some weird occultist. "Hello, are you the one that put the advertisement in the paper?"

The man seemed to glance behind them, a confused look on his face. Michael turned, expecting to see someone. There was nothing but the winding road towards the house. Despite that he still felt like someone was there. He rubbed his shoulders. When did it get so cold? "Yeah, that was me. Did you want to... y'know, talk to someone?"

"No, we're here to interview you. Of course we're here to talk to someone. There's the problem of ghosts being bullshit, though." He crossed his arms and glared at the man who dared act like he could talk to the dead.

He didn't look too perturbed by Michael's speech, and that only made him angrier. "Which one of you?"

Ray blanched at that. "What? I don't know what you mean?"

"I mean which one of you wants to talk to the dead." He paused, as if listening to something. "Oh, all of you. Come in, then."

"Wait, wait, it's only one of us," Michael interjected. He didn’t want to be part of this dumbassery."I'm just along for the ride."

The man looked at him intently, almost pityingly. "No, I'm pretty sure he wants to talk to you. You too, Ray." He motioned them to come inside. They obliged, an old orange tabby cat padding in after Lindsay. Inside was a small area with a couch, a low wooden table, and another couch opposite the first one. It didn't feel like a living room. The man sat down, motioning for them all to do the same. They sat opposite from him. Michael was glad for that. He didn't think he liked the medium. He was just... weird. "I'm Ryan, by the way. Do you want to get right into it or would you like to do introductions first."

Ray kicked the cat lightly, urging it to stop pressing its body on his legs. "I think we should just get into it."

Ryan nodded. "Alright. So who was it you wanted to talk to?"

He heard Ray swallow hard. He didn't want him to go through with this. It was hard enough during the funeral. He had hoped that Ray had moved on or something. He had Tina and from what she had told him he was fine. Maybe he just didn't want to worry her. Maybe she just didn't want to worry him. "His name is Joel."

Ryan nodded again. "Alright. Do you have anything of his? A trinket, an item of clothing? A memory might work if you don't have anything physical."

Ray sat up straighter and pulled off the hoodie he was wearing. "Yeah, this. Is it enough?"

Ryan took the article of clothing and smiled. "Yeah, this should work fine. Was there anything in particular you wanted to say to him?"

"Y-yeah. I wanted to say sorry. I never really appreciated him while he was alive and now that he's, well, y'know..." Ray trailed off. His eyes were shining and Michael wanted to get him out of this fake psychic’s house. It couldn't be healthy, clinging on to people like Ray was determined to cling on to Joel.

Michael blinked furiously when he looked back at their host. Well, he thought it was their host. He could have sworn he saw Joel again, if just for a few seconds. That was impossible, though. The voice, however, was definitely Joel's, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. "I forgive you. Duh. I don't even know what you're talking about. You did nothing but fawn over me while I was alive. It was always Joel this and Joel that. But since you seem to think you didn't treat me right I'm going to tell you one thing right now: what happened was not your fault. It was probably more Adam's fault and all he did was drive the car. Don't worry about it, Ray. Don't beat yourself up about it, Lindsay. And Michael... well, just give them time to cope. You don't get over a death in a few months."

Ray stared with watery eyes and a covered mouth at the man sitting across from them. Lindsay was comforting him, though she looked almost as emotionally wrecked. As Ryan reached over to hand the hoodie back Michael finally snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He screamed, causing the medium to actually flinch. "Is this some kind of game to you? Do you think it's alright to pretend that you can talk to the dead and then act like it's all a game? Do you understand what that does to people? Do you understand what it's like to lose someone? Someone important? Do you know how it feels to have them just out of your reach again, after you've finally decided to let them go? Do you know, Ryan, what it feels like when a stranger speaks with the voice of a dead friend?"

He didn't hear what his answer was. He was already out of the house. He would walk home if he had to.


	4. In which Gavin doesn't know how to deal with other's problems but somehow makes it work anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so the chapter is short and it might not make sense because I am beyond done with it. I've lost a lot of motivation to write anything long, which includes my king fic, so don't expect another chapter of that anytime soon (unless I get an unexpected boost of motivation). I'm going to try to keep writing this, but the chapters will probably be short for a while. Anyways, enjoy the chapter. Hopefully it all makes sense and it was worth the wait.

When the door was knocked open and slammed shut Gavin knew he wasn't dealing with a happy customer. Oh well, he could probably handle it. He would have to. He just hoped they didn’t stay long. He forced on a smile and the person responsible for the disturbance sat down at the counter. The man didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look mad. He just looked like he was trying to deal with something he didn’t want to deal with. "Hello, welcome to the Austin Coffee shop." When the man didn't respond he went about his work. A few odd customers came and went, the only constant being his unwanted visitor. He didn’t like the way the man just sat there, staring at the counter. When a few minutes passed or awkward silence Gavin finally decided to ask, "Are you going to order anything?"

The man responded with a flat "No." His head was resting on his arms and his face drawn into a scowl. He looked like he wanted to blame the world for his problems instead of face them. Gavin wanted him to leave. There was something about the man that wasn’t quite balanced. It was hard to describe, but it was like he was still finding himself, still trying to make himself something that he might not be ready to become.

"What's wrong with you?" Gavin muttered. He didn't really expect the man to answer, but apparently he needed someone to vent to. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up a little straighter. Gavin braced himself for any possibility as to what could happen. He regretted asking, just a little.

"You ever heard of a dude named Ryan?" Gavin didn't want to answer that. He really regretted asking now. Yes, he knew who he was talking about. No, he didn't want to think of the implications. He still wasn't quite sure if he believed the man when he came into the store, passing on a message from his dead girlfriend, but he really wanted to. He didn't think he should have, but he found comfort in the fact that Meg was still with him, that she still cared enough to try to talk to him. He had seen an ad in the paper a few days ago, one about a medium. Maybe Ryan was the real deal. There was nothing he would have gained from lying. He didn’t dare to fully believe him, though. "I kinda... blew up at him."

"What happened?" Gavin asked stiffly, not willing to participate in the conversation, but at the same time curious. He wanted to know more about the man who could talk to the dead. He wanted to know more about the realm just outside of his perception. He wanted to know that it was real, he wanted proof.

"He was doing his job, I guess. But... I dunno, I guess I didn't want to face it." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable. Gavin tried to make it seem that he wasn’t listening. "I... I had a friend. His name was Kerry. I don't really want to say what happened to him, but... it's not like it matters, I guess. He's dead, anyways." His voice cracked, giving away the fact that it definitely mattered. "It was hard, y'know? And I never wanted to face up to losing someone. So... I didn't. I made myself stop caring. And then another friend died, and I got so close to caring again. It scared me, and I guess if ghosts exist then I've hurt Kerry in ways I can't comprehend. If ghosts exist, then… then I made a mistake. I don’t want them to be real; I don’t want Ryan to be the real deal. I don’t want proof. I want to pretend that nothing ever happened, that I didn’t lose anyone. But… I guess that’s as unhealthy as clinging to the dead."

Gavin didn't know what to say. He didn't feel like he should be hearing this man pour his heart out. They were strangers, they had never met before. And yet, Gavin felt a strange connection with the man. Maybe it was that they had both lost someone precious, someone that tore them apart to think about. Maybe it was because they both needed someone who could talk to the dead, to assure them that they weren’t wrong, or they were, or that the people they mourned still loved them. He reached over and awkwardly patted him on the back. "Maybe you should care. Maybe you shouldn't see him as someone you lost, but as someone you knew." He was spouting nonsense. Gavin wanted to tape his own mouth shut. He wasn’t good at helping others. He was the one who usually got help from other people. "Maybe you should let someone help you instead of just blowing up at them to get rid of a problem you don't want to face. Maybe you should talk to Ryan again. Just don’t blow up at him this time."

Michael looked at him strangely and Gavin wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. What was he saying? It didn't make any bloody sense! "Thanks."

"What?" Gavin sputtered out.

"I said thanks. I think I owe a few people an apology. I appreciate the help." He stood up and held out his hand. Gavin was just floored that he had managed to help him in any way, with the gibberish that had been pouring out of his mouth. "I'm Michael by the way."

He took it. "Gavin."

He would have to pay a visit to a certain medium sometime soon. He needed to talk to someone, someone who understood a world that he would never be able to experience. He wanted to talk to Meg again.


	5. In which we meet new people with new problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, longer chapter. Also, if you thought this fic wasn't going to be filled to the brim with angst and dark shit you are sorely mistaken.

He woke up that morning knowing it wasn't going to be a peaceful day. Good thing he didn't have work. He opened his eyes, squinting at the sunlight that pushed past his curtains. He swung his legs over his bed, shuffling over the window and pulling the curtains closed again. He wondered who opened the curtains before he realized he really didn't care. It was probably Jack or something. He was always trying to get him out of his dark room as early as possible. "Staying in the dark for so long is not good for your health," he always said. Brave words for someone who was dead. Geoff did the same thing, though. They were both overly protective of Ryan, and the man often wondered if they were fathers. He had learned long ago that asking ghosts that sort of thing wasn't in his best interest. His eyes still half open, he went about dressing himself.

Once his hair was brushed, his clothes on, and his eyes finally fully open, he went downstairs, only to find that it was strangely absent of people. Well, dead people. There was someone banging on his door. He jumped when Geoff appeared next to him, looking as exhausted as ever. "You've got visitors."

"No shit," Ryan muttered. Geoff crossed his arms.

"Hey, don't get pissy at me. I didn't ask them to come. Also, you might want to get your shit together. They look like they're professionals or something. Jack's out there now." He lowered his voice, as if forgetting that he was dead and that no one could hear him except for Ryan. "And they've got a ghost with them."

That pushed Ryan to rush to open the door. Behind it there were two men, one with his hand still out to knock on the door. He glanced behind them and saw Jack talking to a tall, thin man. "Hello, are you... Ryan?" One of them asked. He was considerably shorter than everyone else present and his hair was close cut and short. He was the one most affected by the ghost, he could tell.

"Yeah, hi. That's me. Can I help you?" Jack signaled him to give them the slip. He stumbled for words before holding his hand up, stopping any reply. "Actually, hang on." He closed the door, waiting for Jack to get back in. It wasn't long before he walked through the door, an unfamiliar ghost wandering behind him.

"They're from the paper, they're not going to ask you about any ghost," Jack informed him immediately. Ryan groaned. The last thing he wanted was to be interrogated by a bunch of idiots who probably didn’t even want to be within five miles of him. "But Matt here wants you to pass on a few words to them."

Ryan politely turned to the newest ghost. "Hello, you're Matt then?" The ghost nodded. "I know it can be disorientating, having someone be able to talk to you after all this time, but-"

"It's been a month." His voice was a whisper. Ryan highly doubted that. Time moved differently for ghosts, so there was no way to tell just how long he had been dead. He didn’t want to think about it, but there was a chance that it had been less than a month since he had died. The medium just hoped it was longer. "I just... I want to talk to them again. I miss Jeremy, I miss Kdin, I miss having them respond when I joke around. I miss Jeremy getting mad at my short jokes." Ryan nodded along. He was used to ghosts being melodramatic and slightly depressed. More often than not they still clung to their old lives. Usually, though, they moved on with time.

There was another knock on his door. "Hang on," he hastily called. He clapped his hands together, startling Matt. "I'm going to let them in. You tell me when you want to tell them something. If you actually want to talk to them... well, that's going to be a bit harder. Not impossible. Just harder." Matt nodded and Ryan swung the door open again. "So sorry to keep you waiting. Why don't you come in?"

The duo from before shuffled their way into his home. They didn't look comfortable. Most people didn't, but they were usually better at hiding it. He put on a warm smile, one that was not reciprocated. The short one- Jeremy, he assumed- sat on the couch and kept his knees locked together and his hands stuffed in his lap. The other one- Kdin, he guessed- did a better job at hiding his nervousness. He relaxed into the couch, though he was still much too stiff. "I'm-"

"You're Jeremy." Ryan interrupted. His smile quickly disappeared. He wasn’t in the mood to sugar coat things, and he just wanted to get it over with. "You're from the paper. You're here to badger me for information and then abandon everything I tell you and settle on calling me a nut and a crazy person. You're here because your boss made you, not because you want to be here. But that's not true, because you do have a reason to come here." He leaned forward, the duo immediately leaning back. Beside him Matt was quickly talking, trying to tell everything Ryan needed to know to get them to believe him. "You're here because of Matt."

Jeremy seemed to almost withdraw into himself. Kdin, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to jump up and challenge Ryan to a dual. "What do you know about that?" he hissed quietly. Ryan could tell that he didn’t believe in ghosts. He could tell that the man probably thought he had somehow been there when Matt died, that he had known, somehow, what they’d done.

Ryan blanched. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to come out of Matt's mouth, but it certainly wasn't that. "You... he died because of you." It was a whisper but Kdin definitely heard it. He quickly stood up, grabbing Ryan by the front of his shirt. His hands were shaking horribly.

"How do you know about that?" He looked like he would have punched Ryan in the face if an invisible force hadn't knocked him back. He shot a grateful glance at Geoff, who just crossed his arms and muttered something about "Kids these days." Kdin's face was disbelieving and stunned. He was still shaking. Ryan wasn't sure if it was out of anger or fear. He would be frightened, too, if he had murdered his best friend. "It wasn't- I didn't mean to-"

"Shut up," Ryan snapped. He got up slowly, his hands up in a sigh of peace. He faced Matt, trying to push him down from the pedestal he had worked up to. "Listen, you need to calm down."

The ghost didn't seem to hear him. He continued to scream at his friends who wouldn't be able to hear him. When Ryan spoke he rounded on the medium. "Calm down? _Calm down_?! How can I calm down? I'm dead! I just started my life and I'm already dead!" He was practically hysterical, not that Ryan could blame him. He knew how ghosts worked, though, and he knew that this was not a good thing. He had to calm him down before something bad happened.

Geoff and Jack both stood at the sidelines, ready to subdue the ghost if worse came to worst. He opened his mouth to talk, wondering how in the world he was going to calm the ghost down, but he stopped when he heard someone else talk. It was a whisper, but he still heard it. "I'm sorry." His head whipped around, his eyes landing on Jeremy. He was staring at Ryan intently, though he knew that he was talking to his friend. "I- I never meant for it to happen. I didn't expect- I didn't know- I... I'm sorry. It was supposed to be fun. It was New Years. It was supposed to be a fun night out, but you… you died and... no one ever asked what happened to you. And I felt so guilty. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept living, acting like I didn't know who Ma- who you were. I never imagined that you would- that we would have-" Jeremy took a deep, steadying breath. "I never imagined what it would be like to live in a world without you, but I had to when you fell into that river."

Matt seemed to have calmed down, so Ryan sat down again. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed when he heard water dripping onto his carpet. Great. At least the ordeal was almost over. At least he hoped it was. "Well, isn't this sweet," he said dully, "It's like a great big reunion. Except, you know, one's dead and the other two have to live with crippling regret." Geoff looked like he was about to duct tape his mouth shut. “Weren’t you here to interview me or something?”

Kdin shook himself out of his shock. Ryan could tell that they had no doubt that he was the real thing anymore. At least two people in Austin believed him. “Y-yeah, actually, we-“

“Make something up.”

“What?” Kdin asked, a curious smile creeping onto his face.

“I said make something up. You’ve seen enough here, so why don’t you use that? I really don’t give a shit.” He stood up and opened the door. “I’ve done all that I can do. If you want to talk to Matt again bring something of his next time. Bye.”

With that they left, Matt following close behind. Ryan closed the door, only to see Geoff staring at him. “What the fuck was that?”

He just shrugged. “I’m tired, I didn’t want them here, and now they’re gone.”

Geoff shook his head. "For your sake I hope nothing bad comes out of this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very happy with this chapter (especially how it ended) but oh well. I hope it made sense and I hope you all liked it. If you didn't, tell me why. If you did, tell me why also. I always love hearing from you guys.


	6. The calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmm

The next time he saw Michael was much too soon. It had been a few days since the incident at Ryan’s house, and in that time Ray had made a few visits. Not to talk to Joel, just to talk to Ryan. He was a nice guy, really, once you got past the dead people. Talking with him was a chore, especially when someone cracked a joke that Ray couldn’t hear and the medium would double over laughing randomly. He learned a bit about the people living in his house, like Jack and Geoff and the random ghosts people brought with them when they visited. He learned a bit about the “rules” of being a ghost, to which Ray had joked “Well, at least I’ll know what to do when I’m one of them.” They had sat in silence for a long time after that. Ryan didn’t seem to be that weird, though he had his moments. All in all, Ray would say that he was a great person to be around.

When Tina yelled at him to answer the door the last person he had expected to see was Michael, but that was who stood outside of his apartment. “Uh… hey. Haven’t seen you in a while,” was all he could say. Michael just pushed past him into his home.

“Ray, can I talk to you for a second?” Michael sounded uncharacteristically brooding, and that was something he wasn’t used to. He was used to Michael storming out of a conversation because someone had made an argument that he couldn’t dispute or proved him wrong about something. He was used to Michael shouting before thinking.

“You’re in my apartment so I guess I don’t really have a choice.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Michael just glared at him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “About what happened with… with Ryan.” Ray nodded, wondering what kind of thinking he’d been doing. “And I want to apologize to him.”

“Good, cool, I agree, but if you’re not prepared to do it like right now you should probably leave.” Michael’s eyes widened when he heard someone knock on the door. Honestly, Ray had forgotten for a few seconds that Ryan was visiting. Oh well. Less time for Michael to rethink his whole apology, for better or for worse. Michael looked panicked, and Ray just shushed him. “You sit your ass down. I don’t give a shit if you weren’t planning on doing it today, you’re doing it.”

He opened the door to see the same man that he had been visiting for the past few days. "Ray," he whispered softly, "You have a lot of ghosts in your apartment complex."

He had to laugh at how petrified he looked. "Yeah, I'd assume so. Some of the people here have lived in the same place for fifty years." Ryan just nodded and pushed his way into Ray's home. Was it too much to wait to be invited in?

"So this is your apartment then, huh?" He looked around at the mess of blankets that was his living room and the mess his kitchen was and smiled. He would have to clean that soon. Tina would yell at him if he didn’t. "I like it. It's very... you." Ray glanced past Ryan to see Michael trying to push himself as far into the couch as possible.

"Hey, Ryan, you've met Michael, right?" Of course he had. Ray almost slapped himself in the face.

Ryan's face turned from curiosity to fear in a second. Ray wanted to make one of them leave. They didn't feel comfortable near each other, it was obvious. But he reminded himself that this was for their benefit. If they never sucked it up and talked then it would just be awkward for everyone all the time. "Yeah," Ryan finally said quietly, "We've met."

"Well I mean obviously," Ray laughed nervously, "But Michael actually has something to tell you." He faced Michael, daring him to go back on what he had said before. "Right, Michael?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, standing up and looking incredibly out of his element. He was usually screaming at people, leaving if something didn't go his way. He was not used to apologizing. "I'm... I'm sorry about... yeah," he muttered awkwardly.

Ryan’s shoulders immediately relaxed when it was obvious he wasn’t about to face another of Michael’s patented rants. “It’s alright. I’ve dealt with… with much worse.” Ray had no idea what that was supposed to be a reference to. After that they seemed to get along just fine. It wasn’t long before they were all laughing and talking like age old friends. It takes a while to break through to Michael, to get past his angry protective layer, but once you did it was worth it.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before there was a piercing scream coming from somewhere outside of Ray’s apartment. Ryan was the first to stand, to look like a frightened rabbit, to start towards the door. “What the fuck was that?” Michael whispered, almost sounding afraid to find out. They found themselves just outside the door as people were rushing from the building, some with curious expressions and others with horrified ones.

Michael reached out and stopped someone, asking, “Where’s everyone going? What’s going on?”

“Someone jumped off the bridge.”

Ryan was gone in an instant. Ray yelled at him through the crowd, but with the shoving and talking he was soon swallowed by the people running to see what would happen to the man that had, for one reason or another, jumped off the bridge.  

It was much darker when they stepped out of the building then when they had stepped inside. There were clouds blocking out the sun and the quickly blackening sky. There were police cars and ambulances parked all around the bridge, and people with flashlights searching the water below. There was a queer kind of energy in the air, one that dared people to talk. One that said “You’re next,” though what that might mean was anyone’s guess. It was deathly silent, even with all the people talking. 

Ryan found himself near a snapped suspension cable, the cars that were abandoned by people rushing to the edge trying to see if they could find whoever it was that  had met their demise. It was cold. It wasn’t the kind of cold you feel in winter, the kind that freezes your fingers and makes you wish for the moment you would find yourself back home. It was the kind of cold that froze you from the inside out, squeezing any hope out of your heart. It was quickly getting darker and darker, and Ryan knew he had to go back and find the others. He turned, and he stopped. There was someone staring over the edge that didn’t look like they were there. They looked like a piece of the sky had been cut out of existence, leaving a pitch black silhouette where a person should be. Ryan took a cautious step back when a light passed briefly over the figure, barely making a dent in the darkness. In an instant it was gone.

He felt someone bump into him, and he almost screamed. “Ryan?” a voice asked, but it wasn’t Michael or Ray. It was someone he hadn’t seen for a while. It was Gavin. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ryan just silently shook his head, knowing that the peaceful life he had hoped to live was soon going to come to an end.


	7. In which Ryan makes the wrong choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Extra long chapter for you guys. Hope you like it!

He found himself in Gavin's apartment. Meg was there, though this time she didn't say anything. She just stood there, listening. Somehow she seemed darker than before. There was a strange aggravated feeling in the air. He assumed it was from Meg, though why he couldn’t say. “I just think,” he said quietly, “That maybe my life here’s over.”

"What do you mean it's... over?" Gavin asked, almost sounding afraid. Afraid of what? Losing him? The man barely knew him. Maybe he was just scared of losing his last connection to Meg. Yeah, that had to be it.

Ryan rubbed his hands over his pants and nervously looked around the room. He didn’t want to meet his gaze. "I _mean_ that I probably shouldn't have come here." A cat rubbed itself on Ryan's legs. Gavin didn't react to it, so it was either dead or normal for it to harass guests. "Not _here_ here, to Austin."

"Nonsense." Gavin shook his head and crossed his arms. "I haven't heard one person complain about you. That article in the paper really pushed people in your favor."

"There's an article about me?" He asked, before remembering Matt and Jeremy and Kdin. "Oh, yeah." He rubbed the back of his head. "That's not what I mean. I couldn't care less what people think of me. If someone comes into my house and yells at me for doing my job that's fine. I don't care. But when a ghost gets out of hand, even just a little bit, that's all it takes."

"All it takes for... what?"

"A ghost... doesn't just start existing." He began, hoping that Gavin would understand. He hoped that the new information would stop him from asking the hard hitting questions. He hoped he wouldn’t think of the implications. He didn’t want to worry him. "It takes a push for a ghost to exist, or for it to... I don't really know how to phrase it. A ghost doesn't just... activate. It takes something to wake them up. In this case," he smiled sheepishly and motioned to himself.

"Wait... so all the ghosts exist because of you?"

"No, they existed before I came here. They just... weren't really there. I don't know, Gavin, it's taken me my whole life to understand all that I do. I can't tell you how it works. I can only tell you that a lot of people might be in trouble because of me." He mumbled the last part, immediately wishing he could take it back.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Remember that photographer that fell off the bridge?" Gavin nodded. "Well, I don't think it was an accident. Suspension cables don't just snap randomly."

Gavin shook his head, though his concerned expression betrayed how he was feeling. "You can't just assume you're responsible for something like that. Who knows, maybe it was just a freak accident. It happens all the time!"

Ryan's eyes met Gavin's. "Does it, really?"

Gavin gulped. His eyes skittered away from Ryan's. "No, it doesn't."

There was a knock on the door. Ryan stiffened. He knew who it was, though how he knew he had no idea. "Don't answer the door."

"Why?" Gavin asked, already halfway to it.

"Because I don't want to deal with them right now." Gavin looked annoyed.

"I'm not leaving someone outside just because you don't want to talk to them." With that he swung the door open, revealing who Ryan had started calling the newspaper duo. Their ghost was nowhere to be seen. "Hullo, can I help you?"

Jeremy looked skittish and uncertain. Kdin looked like he meant business. "Yeah, hi, we're here to talk to Ryan."

"How'd you even know I was here?" He mumbled into a couch pillow, knowing that something that he didn't want to happen was going to happen. At least they distracted Gavin.

"Michael told us." He grabbed Ryan's elbow and pulled him to his feet despite the loud exclamation of protest. "And we're here because we need you for something."

Ryan leaned away from the grin that was growing on Kdin's face. "And what would that be?" He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t because of his good looks and charm.

"We know that whatever happened at the bridge wasn't natural. We know that whatever happened there you can help us with." He poked him in the chest. "We need your skills."

"No," Ryan said immediately. Kdin pouted.

"Oh, come on! This could be so exciting! We'd be like supernatural investigators except legit and totally not fake."

"I said no," he said and he pushed past them towards the door. His hand was on the handle when Meg finally moved. In an instant she was in front of him, her hand over his wrist. Her grip was tight and ice cold. She grit her teeth and some color seemed to return to her.

"You're going to help them," she said slowly, "Because if you don't then not even the afterlife will be a safe place for you. I don't think you understand what's happening. Let me spell it out for you. If you don't get off your ass, we're. All. Fucked."

Ryan gulped, and nodded slightly. He let go of the door handle and turned back to the idiot brigade. "Fine," he said, grinding his teeth. He really didn’t want to do this. He’d had enough of this from… last time. "I'll help you."

Kdin cheered and Jeremy smiled. "What made you change your mind?" Gavin asked.

Ryan shrugged. "I dunno. I just know that I need to do this." He knew that Gavin could tell that he was lying.

"If you're going then I am too." There were no arguments after that. They all piled into Kdin's car and they drove to the bridge. It was silent and Ryan felt the pressure in the car from everyone, even if they refused to admit it. Gavin looked concerned and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was ever on good terms with the man. But... he had invited him into his house, so maybe they weren't on too bad terms. He would be willing to get closer to Gavin, but something told him he probably wouldn't get the chance. The car stopped abruptly and Ryan looked up, seeing the bridge. The street lights reflected off the water below, making it all seem very foreboding.

"Come on," Kdin said, unlocking the car. He slung a camera around his neck and shoved a pad of paper into Jeremy's hands. Ryan clambered out, his feet settling on to the gravely slope that led down to the water. Kdin had already begun climbing down.

"Are you sure this is legal?" Gavin squeaked as he tripped for the third time.

"Probably not," Kdin remarked casually, "But no one forced you to come. It's your own fault. You insisted."

"He's not wrong, Gavin." He just pouted at Ryan. "What was this guy's name, anyways?"

"Jon Risinger. He was the photojournalist at the paper. We didn't talk much, but most people knew him by name if not by face." This time it was Jeremy who responded, almost falling the rest of the way. They were at the edge of the river, the water lapping at their feet and collecting in dark pools. It wasn't that deep, which was probably why they said the photographer died from the fall and not from drowning.

"So," Ryan said, dreading the answer, "What next?"

"Glad you asked." Kdin jumped into the water, somehow managing to keep his footing. He got soaked up to the midpoint of his thigh. He seemed to be making as much noise as possible. Ryan resisted the urge to tell him to shut up. Something wasn’t right here. "You're gonna talk to the guy."

Ryan paled at that. He knew it was going to be something like that. He was really regretting coming now. "What's the camera for, then?"

Kdin hefted up the heavy instrument. "You know what they say, right? About ghosts and cameras?" Ryan sighed. Yes, he did. They weren't wrong, either. He had never bothered to learn why, but he knew that a camera could see a spirit when human eyes couldn't.

"No, what do they say?" A voice asked from next to Ryan. He let out a strangled scream and jumped back. Kdin fumbled with the camera, somehow understanding what was happening. The man that had appeared out of thin air had a wide smile and wavy dark hair. He was soaked head to toe and half his face was caked in blood. He didn't look like he knew that it was there.

"You're, uh, Jon, I'd assume?" The ghost brightened at that.

"Oh! You know who I am! I'm afraid that I don't know who you are, though."

"Ah, yeah, I'm Ryan, nice to meet you. You do know that you're-"

"Dead?" At this his smile disappeared. Suddenly he seemed very much _dead._ The humanity seemed to be chased away in an instant. His eyes were glassy and the blood hard and black. Ryan could almost smell the corpse that was probably still hidden somewhere under the water. "Yeah, I know I'm dead. So I guess the question is why can you see me?"

Ryan glanced at Kdin who has staring through his camera's lenses in awe. Apparently he could see what was happening, no matter how warped it might be. Gavin looked scared and he couldn't see Jeremy anywhere. "I'm, uh, a-"

"Medium?" Jon asked. Ryan wasn't sure how to interpret his tone. "So you're the reason I'm dead?"

Ryan took a step back, the color draining from his face. "W-what? I don't know-"

"Oh, you don't know? Well, I didn't either!" He practically shrieked, and by the way Gavin and Jeremy flinched they could hear it. "I didn't know either! Do you know what it's like to be dead for such a STUPID REASON? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE BEEN KILLED AND REDUCED TO NOTHING BUT _BAIT_?"

"What?" Ryan said, feeling a cold hard lump form in his chest. An icy cold wind picked up and slowly, one by one, the street lights flickered out. He shouted at Kdin and Gavin, who were just staring at the street lights in shock. The sound was muffled in his ears and all he could hear was his rapidly beating heart. "Leave! Go!" He could only barely hear himself screaming. They took the hint, scrambling back up the bank and to the car. Ryan tried to follow, only to find his feet glued to the ground, threatening to give out under him if only he could move.

The figure from before, the dense shadow, was in front of him where Jon had been. The headlights of the car were the only things still illuminating the scene and still Ryan could see it. It was darker then the sky, darker than any ghost he had seen. He wasn't even sure if it was a ghost, honestly. For all he knew it was a demon that had crawled its way up from hell to torture him personally. Ryan felt his heart leap into his throat as a dark hand reached towards him. He wanted to leave, to run as fast as he could away from there, but he couldn't move. He was tethered to the spot by ropes he couldn't see. The hand found its way to his head, laying ice cold against his cheek. "Do you know who I am?" The voice rang and echoed against itself. Ryan had the distinct feeling that he wasn't supposed to be able to understand it. He couldn't reply, though. The words caught in his throat and made it hard to breathe. "Ah, never mind then. It won't matter soon anyways."

Ryan could have sworn he saw a smile flash across the shadow's face. The ice cold fingers dug into his skin, the cold seeping into his blood, into his soul. He supposed it should have hurt, but all he could feel was tired. His head drooped and his eyes fluttered shut. "Don't worry," he heard someone say, "Just sleep."


	8. In which there is a flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Ryan. Also, shoutout to the cameos that aren't really cameos they're pretty important to the story by the Grumps. If you don't know who they are then don't worry too much. If you do know who they are then hope you enjoy it.

He felt his head nod. He shook it harshly, trying to stay awake. The heavy textbook in his hand was looking even duller by the moment. He shut it with a snap and rubbed his eyes. They were starting to hurt from straining too long in the dim light. He would have to head back to the dorms soon. Not for the first time he wished that he hadn't agreed to meet a friend outside. It wasn't like they were going to show up anyways so he could probably just go back inside and forget about it.

"Hey," he looked up cautiously, trying to steady his heartbeat. "I, uh, can't help but notice that you're sitting here all alone and I was wondering if you'd... like to go hang out with me and a couple of friends?" She looked nice enough. Her smile wasn't strained, even for a college student a few months before exams, and she looked like she genuinely wanted to bring him along to whatever it was they were doing. "You're... Ryan, right? We have English 101 together."

"Uh, yeah." He smiled nervously, trying to remember what her name was. "You're-"

"Suzy!" Someone shouted, running up next to her. "We're ready to go what are you doing over here?" His gaze drifted to Ryan. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Arin, this is Ryan." She gestured to him, and Ryan leaned to the other side of them, trying to see who was behind them.

"Are you going to introduce him?" He pointed at the third member of the party and immediately regretted it. By their reactions he had probably just chased away any chance of ever talking to these people again.

"Who?" Suzy asked, glancing behind her. "Do you mean Ross?" She pointed to another person waiting by a car a few yards away. He looked incredibly bored. The ghost just kept staring at him.

"You can see me?" He asked. While Suzy and Arin weren't looking he nodded slightly. The ghost brightened at that. "Sweet! I'm Danny. I was..." his face scrunched in concentration. "I don't really remember all that much."

"Uh, yeah, him. Sure, I guess. I'll go with you." He didn't really have anything else to do. "Hang on, I'll catch up in a second." They nodded and left, heading back to the car and presumably to wait for him. He turned to the ghost. "You said your name was Danny?"

"Yeah, Dan." He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know what my last name is. Was?"

"Is. Did you know them?" He motioned vaguely to the trio waiting for him.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "Maybe?" They heard Arin shouting for him. "Uh, why don't you go with them? I'll still be here when you get back." Ryan didn't miss the bitterness in his tone.

"Yeah. I'll, uh, see you later I guess." With the he shoved the textbook he was reading into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"Were you talking to someone over there?" Arin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah I was talking to a ghost." Arin burst out laughing and clapped him on the back. Ryan didn't miss Suzy's shocked expression.

"You're funny. I like you," Arin remarked, opening the car door for them to all pile in.

"Yeah, thanks." He rubbed his hands together as the car started. Soon enough they were on the road and Ryan had gained enough courage to ask his question. "Did you ever know someone named Dan?"

Suzy's hands tightened on the wheel. "Uh, not that I know of, no." Arin's eyebrows scrunched before he shook his head. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

The rest of the ride was silent. When the car finally stopped they were at the end of a dirt road, an old and crumbling house in front of them. Ryan's face immediately paled. "What are we doing here." There was barely restrained panic in his voice.

"Are you alright? It's just a little bit of fake magic. Everyone does it at one point in their life." At this Arin held up a plain brown box with black letters printed on the front. It said "Ouija."

"He's shaking are you ok dude?" Ross asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"A-are you sure you want to- to do this? I mean doesn't it seem kind of ridiculous?" He felt his heart threaten to burst out of his chest.

"Dude if it makes you uncomfortable or something you can just wait in the car. It's not like something bad is going to happen." Arin shook his head. "It's not like ghosts are real."

"Y-yeah, I'll just... wait here." They all left, heading towards the abandoned house. All of them but Suzy. She turned, staring at him. He gulped.

"Are you a medium." It wasn't a question.

"I- uh- yes?" His eyes found the window and he could have sworn he saw someone standing outside. He didn't recognize them but it felt cold in the car.

At this point Suzy had turned around. "You talked to Dan?"

"Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"Why are you asking me?" Ryan asked instead of choosing to answer. There were so many things that he didn't understand about what he was and he didn't understand how people reacted to ghosts or how people could pretend to talk to them without the ghost killing them out of pure anger. He wanted answers, as he always had since the day his father died.

"Because I can't hear him, ok?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Are you a medium?"

She huffed and folded her arms. "No. I'm a..." She bit her lip and seemed to consider her next words. "I'm a witch." She noticed Ryan stiffen. "Relax I'm not that kind of witch."

He shook his head. "No, no, it's not that." He lowered his head to rest in his hands. He felt his hands shake and his teeth chatter. It was really cold. He squeezed his eyes shut as a sharp headache ran through him. "Is it cold in here or is it just me?" He muttered, feeling his body slowly relax as he suddenly felt exhausted.

Suzy looked frightened. She reached over and shook Ryan's shoulder. "Hey, Ryan, you need to stay awake." She knew a little bit more about mediums and ghosts then he did. It probably had something to do with her growing up in an environment where learning about the supernatural was encouraged. One thing that she knew for sure was if Ryan fell asleep it wouldn't be good news for anyone.

He groaned and batted her hand away. "No, I'm tired. I've been up all day. I just want to sleep." Suzy knew that she wasn't going to get through to him. She quickly got out of the car, locking the doors behind her. Those idiots had probably already started messing with the board. It had been her plan to try to summon a ghost and hopefully bargain with it (the way it hadn't worked with Dan. Not only could she not hear him but he seemed to be clueless and irregularly pacifistic for a ghost that was forced awake without the presence of a medium) but it seemed that she had made a terrible mistake by bringing Ryan along. She had hoped that keeping him outside would stop any unwanted possessions but apparently not.

The thing about mediums is that very little in their lives are left up to them. Compared to a normal human possessing a medium was a breeze. All that needed to happen was for the medium in question to be asleep and, since ghosts still had a little sway over the world, it was not hard to catch a medium unawares. She locked the car and sprinted to the old and abandoned house that they had chosen for their little game, as far as Arin and Ross were concerned. She had neglected to tell them the real reason why they were going to that particular house that night. She ran through the open porch door and found the aforementioned idiots trying to figure out how to work the board.

"What the hell are you doing?" Suzy snapped, picking up the board and swiftly stuffing it back in the box. She could still feel the energy that it was giving to the ghost. That wasn't good.

"What're _you_ doing?" Arin whined. "I thought we were going to mess around tonight."

"Change of plans," Suzy said, wincing as she heard her car's alarms go off. She didn't want to turn around. "We have to leave. Now."

She heard footsteps and dared a glance behind her. She saw what, at first glance, looked like Ryan. With a little bit more than a glance she could immediately tell that something was wrong. That something was what most people, including her, called a possession. Whatever he might look like it wasn't Ryan at the moment. His hair fell into his eyes and his skin looked deathly pale. Arin and Ross, as dumb as they were sometimes, could tell that something wasn't right. They took Suzy's advice and ran out of the room and deeper into the house. They looked frantically for a back exit but found nothing. There was only one exit that wasn't one of the boarded up windows and Suzy didn't feel like breaking her body through wooden planks. "We have to hide," she decided.

"What's going on?" Arin asked, shaking. He glanced around and he noticed the same thing Suzy did at that moment. "Where's Ross?"

They heard a crash from the other room and a yell that could have only come from their missing friend. She heard footsteps again. "Hide," she whispered, and quietly rushed to a nearby closet, closing herself behind the rotting wood and peeling paint. She could see a little past a crack in the door and what she saw she didn't like one bit. It was Ryan, or what looked like Ryan, trudging down the hall. She stifled a gasp when she saw the blood dripping from his hands. He stopped in front of the closet and Suzy covered her mouth and nose with her hands, praying that he would leave. A hand rattled the doorknob. She had locked it, thank goodness. A second later a hand crashed through the wood, opening up huge cuts in the skin. The door was ripped off the hinges and she was faced with a monster staring at her, glassy and unfocused eyes directed at her. She felt him grab her shirt, painting it with blood. "Leave," he said, and the worst part was it still sounded like Ryan.

She squeaked, wrenching at the hands that were already scarred beyond repair. In a moment of panic she dug into her pockets, hoping that there would be something to help her. Later she wouldn't have been able to remember when or how it had gotten there but her hands found something and immediately flung it at her attacker. It was salt. The hands immediately released her and she was able to run to the door. She stopped short when she saw Ross slumped against the wall, blood dragged across the wall where he had hit it. She grabbed him and tried to lift him. He was still alive, she could feel it. Another pair of hands helped her and when she looked up she saw Arin. They ran to the car, throwing Ross unceremoniously into the back seat. Suzy looked frantically for the keys, only to find nothing but salt in her pockets. The blood drained from her face.

"He has my keys." Arin looked at her, shocked. A second later they saw the door to the house open and Ryan stumble out. This time she was almost positive it was just Ryan. She opened the car door and yelled, "Ryan! Give me my keys!" He slowly walked to the car, rubbing his head with his hands and only succeeding in matting it with blood.

"What happened...?" He mumbled, still half asleep. A huge yawn escaped from his lips. Suzy looked panicked. He swayed to one side, supporting himself against the car. He shook his head slowly, obviously not rid of the ghost quite yet. "Leave," he whispered, his eyes closed. He breathed heavily out of his nose and reached into his pocket. Shaking hands grabbed the keys and threw them away from him. He felt so unbelievably tired. His mind seemed to slip away from him and his body lurched forward without his consent. "Leave," he said again, this time louder than before. He felt something heavy and hot crash into him and suddenly the exhaustion left him. His eyes shot open to see Suzy standing in front of him, holding a fistful of salt.

"You alright now?" She asked. He looked down at his stinging hands and had to choke back a scream. They were bloody and covered in bits of glass and wood. It took a lot of explaining for him to calm down, and even then it didn't do much good. The horror that he had almost killed them was enough to keep him locked up in his dorm for days, periodically checking the bandages that Suzy had helped put on. It wasn't until years later that the cold didn't frighten him so much and the thought of talking to the dead didn't seem too terrible anymore. A possession is not something to be taken lightly.


	9. In which we learn the ups and downs of being a medium (part 1).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually not a lot of ups.

He woke up outside of his door. It wasn't a peaceful awakening, either. He jerked, almost hitting his head on the bricks behind him. He was sitting next to his welcome mat, the porch creaking as it always did. He looked over to Jack's favorite chair but didn't see him. It was strangely quiet. He didn't remember how he got home. He got up shakily, wondering why his body felt so sore. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Geoff?" He called. "Jack?" There was no answer. Ryan shivered and dragged a blanket off the couch. He thought back to the night before, running through everything in his head. He drew a blank after the lights started to shut off. He almost dropped the cup of coffee he was making when he realized what must have happened. He didn't have a dream like that for no reason.

He tried calling the ghosts that had taken up residence in his house. "Geoff, Jack, I promise I'm me." This time Geoff cautiously peeked at him through the kitchen counter.

"You positive?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm positive." He glanced around, still not seeing Jack anywhere. "What happened last night? Did I do anything? Did I hurt anyone?" There was a note of barely restrained panic in his voice.

Geoff shrugged. "I dunno. I don't think so, though. Those guys you were with dropped you off here. Well, it wasn't you but you get what I mean." Ryan nodded.

"You're sure nothing bad happened?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure that annoying British one saying 'Bye, Ryan. Hope I can talk to you soon!' is a good indication that nothing bad happened." The medium laughed at the poor accent that Geoff had adopted.

"Good." He thought about it a little more. "But... that seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to have a joyride in my body for a few hours."

"Look, Ryan, I know I wasn't there when you got possessed in college but I'm here right now and I can tell you something you probably don't want to hear."

"What is it?" He felt the cup in his hand suddenly go very cold.

"Whoever that ghost was didn't leave." This time Ryan did drop the cup. It shattered as he felt the blood drain from his face. He heard his heart beating erratically.

"What?" He whispered, hoping that it wasn't true. He had no idea what it entailed; he had no idea what it meant. The only experience he had with possessions was that night in college. It had been hard to get over that. He didn't want to think about what could happen now that he had some semblance of friends. He could have sworn he heard someone whispering just at the edge of his perception. Whoever it was they sounded angry. Ryan felt the anger bleed into him, and it terrified him. "What do I do? How do I get it out?"

"Fuck if I know," Geoff said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. It was annoyance that was hiding his fear.

"Do you think that...?" He tried, not willing to say it out loud. He didn't want to alert whatever spirit might be listening to what he wanted to do. It was a long shot and he had no idea if it would work but it was the only plan he had.

Somehow, miraculously, Geoff understood what he was getting at. He shook his head, thinking about it. "Maybe. I don't know if it would work. For all I know it could kill you. I'm not an expert on these kind of things and I've been dead longer then you've been alive."

"It's worth a shot. I don't know what else to do, Geoff." He swallowed, hard. "I'm scared."

"I would be too if there was a maniac in my head." He squared his shoulders. "Do you give me permission?"

As a rule, a ghost cannot possess a human without a huge expenditure of energy. If the human happens to be a medium then the amount of energy needed is greatly reduced, but that doesn't make it easy. A ghost can possess a medium effortlessly if one of three protocols are met. One: they have to be asleep. Two: a Ouija board or another such amplifying device is within range. Three: if the medium gives their consent. There is a fourth one, though. One that, at this moment in time, Ryan was not aware of. If the ghost was a medium, there are almost no rules. Perhaps it is a way for the universe to apologize about the hard life it inevitably dumps on them. Whatever the reason, it is invariably a thing that happens. Ryan felt his hands shake. He didn't know why. This was Geoff. He knew Geoff. It wasn't some crazy murderer that could barely think. He slowly nodded. "Yeah, you have my permission."

In a second he felt something warm pass over his chest and he felt pleasantly drowsy. For a second he felt like the world was alright at not at all filled to the brim with monsters in all shapes and forms as it undoubtedly is. Ryan's eyes shot open, and it was like he was seeing the world with a split screen. There wasn't a thin black line separating two different views of the same world, but in some degree it was like he was seeing the world through two sets of eyes. What he saw made him want to close his eyes again. Another rule that Ryan had just learned was that a human body can only host a total of two souls without ejecting one of them.

The thing that had taken the place of Geoff was a shadow, even when there was an abundance of light to illuminate it. Ryan tried to say something, to do something, but it wasn't him that was in control of his body anymore. It was Geoff, and he chose to jump back and let out a strangled scream. "What the fuck?" He said with Ryan's voice. It was weird, hearing his own voice. The shadow didn't move. Ryan could tell, even if Geoff couldn't, that the ghost didn't have enough energy to do much more then stand there menacingly. That or they were gathering energy to push Geoff out of his spot in Ryan's body. There was a knock on the door.

Geoff started to skirt around the spirit. He almost tripped over everything on the way to the door. "Shit," he muttered, "It's been so long since I've had a body. How the hell do you deal with it?"

Ryan tried to respond, but seeing as he had no vocal chords he wasn't sure if Geoff heard him. "It gets easier, especially if you've never been a ghost."

The door was wrenched open and Ray was standing there. Ryan had forgotten that they had planned to hang out that particular morning. It wasn't like Ray and Geoff didn't know each other. Well, it was indirectly but they still knew their names and Geoff had told him many times that he liked the Puerto Rican. He took the whole dead thing in stride. "Ray?" Geoff asked.

"Hey, Ryan. You want to head out or just hand out for a while?" Ray's hands were shoved in his pockets and he shivered even if it wasn't that cold outside.

Geoff panicked for a second. "Uh... yeah, I don't know if we can... hang out right now."

"Why not?" He wasn't mad, that was good.

"Because, uh, we're having a little bit of a huge problem."

"We?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm not... Ryan."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck does that mean? Who are you then?"

"I'm Geoff," he waved pitifully. "Ryan's talked about me at some point. We're having a ghost problem at the moment, and seeing as you can't actually see it I don't know if it's safe for you right now."

Ray crossed his arms. "If you've got a problem then I want to help."

Ryan thought for a second. He willed himself to be heard by Geoff and said, "Tell him to get Suzy. She's the only one I know who would even have the slightest idea on what to do. That and tell him to get Gavin or something. Tell him to tell anyone else that ever talks to me that if it doesn't feel like they're talking to me they should probably run." Geoff relayed his message, scribbling down the number that Ryan barely remembered belonged to Suzy.

He looked at Geoff. "Can Ryan hear me?" Geoff nodded. "Well then I hope you figure this shit out. I'm gonna help in any way I can." With that he left and Geoff closed the door. His breathing became ragged and he collapsed into the couch.

"Holy shit, it's harder then I remember. Having a body, I mean." He closed his eyes, and in an instant Ryan was back in control of his body. He sprang up and ran to the kitchen, pulling out a huge container of salt Suzy had suggested he have near at all times. Dealing with spirits was far from an exact science, but he would make do. When his hand closed around the container he yanked it back. It had hurt to touch it. Another rule he had just learned was that anything that works against ghosts in their incorporeal states works against a human with a ghost possessing them, or a medium with a ghost in their head.

"Geoff," he said, "Can you get out, please?"

His figure phased into existence next to him. He looked tired, if a ghost could look tired. "Damn, that takes more energy to do then you'd expect. Even if you did let me."

He just shrugged and reached for the salt again, this time without any negative side effects. He turned back, expecting to see the ghost, the shadow from before, but he saw nothing. "Uh... Geoff? Where did it go...?" He started, realizing their dilemma just as Ryan had. "Also, where's Jack?"

"Seriously? That's what you're worried about?" Ryan shrugged again. Geoff sighed. "I don't actually know. I haven't seen him in forever. Meaning like two days."

Ryan tightened his grip around the salt and started walking through the house. He wasn't sure he knew where to look, but he trusted his instincts. It wasn't until sound stopped reaching him that he started to panic. His feet made no noise on the floor and he couldn't hear his breathing or Geoff, even though he was standing right next to him. He fumbled with the container, spreading salt in a messy circle around him. Geoff jumped back, avoiding the substance that would hurt him if it touched him. The silence broke and he could hear again.

"What the fuck was that for?" Geoff snapped, standing right outside of the circle. It was hard to remember sometimes, but Geoff was dead and he had never been anything else as long as Ryan had known him.

A shadow appeared at the edge of the circle, and Geoff disappeared. Ryan gulped and spread more salt on the ground. He felt his heart beat in his chest and the blood rush through his ears. This wasn't good. There was only so much a salt circle could protect him from. Already he was feeling drowsy. "Who are you?" He forced out, even though it felt like his mouth was glued shut. His eyes fluttered a bit as it became harder to think. The shadow didn't answer for a while.

"I'm like you," it said, and its voice seemed to drill into his mind, only furthering whatever control it had over Ryan's body. He felt the salt slip out of his hand and break the circle. The shadow stepped forward, an ice cold hand resting against his cheek. Ryan's eyes closed and he felt his body go limp. He tried to force them open again, only succeeding in making the shadow laugh. "Don't try to fight it. Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything to you. You don't deserve that. I know how hard it is to live life as a medium, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Especially someone as young as you. I just need you to sleep for a while."

Ryan felt his legs give out from under him and the resounding crash echo through the house. He vaguely heard someone open the door and rush into the room that he was in. "R-Ryan?" Gavin squeaked. "Are you all right? Bullocks, what the hell happened?"

Ryan tried to lift his arms, to stand up again, but he couldn't move. He shook his head slowly, tipping onto Gavin's shoulder. "I- you need to- leave," he whispered, grasping at the rapidly fraying edges of his mind. "P-please." With that his eyes closed and he stopped being Ryan, at least for the time being.


	10. In which we learn the ups and downs of being a medium (part2).

He was in a dark room. Somehow he knew that it wasn't supposed to be dark and that the lamps and heavily curtained windows should have let some light pierce its way into the room but it didn't. He felt something heavy in his hands, though he couldn't imagine what. In front of him stood a figure, yet he had no idea who it was. He thought he saw a mouth moving and he thought that he heard someone say something but it was all too muffled to hear. The silence pressed like cotton against his ears as he started to move backwards, even if he had no idea why. Something about the figure told him that he had to get away, that no matter what they looked like in sunlight would stop that feeling.

The image around him suddenly shifted and his face was pressed against the dirt, a heavy weight over him. This time it wasn't dark, but he still couldn't hear anything. He couldn't even hear his own heart, but that didn't disturb him as much as the terrified look on Michael's face. He wasn't sure when he processed that he could identify the man standing in front of him but it was undoubtedly Michael. He was staring at something above him, but Gavin couldn't imagine what. His vision faded then, and he found himself sitting bolt upright in bed, a hard knocking coming from his front door.

He grumbled, throwing the sheets off of him and trying to forget about the dream. There was something about it that kept with him, though, and as he opened the door to a frightened Ray staring at him. He said that Ryan was in trouble, that he needed help. He said it had something to do with ghosts. He led him outside to where Michael was waiting in a car.

They hurried to Ryan's house as soon as Ray had stopped talking. He hadn't known Ray very long, but he and Michael had bonded quickly and by extension he had met the Puerto Rican man. Their friendship had not existed long, but he had no reason to doubt him or think he was lying. He had no idea what kind of trouble Ryan was in, but he wasn't just going to let him tough it out alone. He wasn't sure what happened, but he had been acting strange the night before. He hadn't said a word after they started to head home. He had just sat there, staring at his hands like he had never seen them before. Gavin wasn't the best at understanding people's problems, especially when they were about dead people and other things like that. He couldn't see the dead; he couldn't talk to the dead. He'd tried his best to get over Meg, or at least accept that she was gone, but somehow Ryan had helped him with it emotionally. He didn't know how or why, just that for some reason having her there even if he couldn't see her was a comfort.

He found himself outside of his house, the creaking porch only serving to unnerve him. He glanced back and waved at Michael, who was nervously drumming his hands against the steering wheel. Gavin had managed to convince him to wait. He knocked on the door, only for it to slide open upon contact with his hand. He puzzled over it for a second before stepping inside. He had never been to Ryan's house even though he told himself over and over that he would visit eventually. He just hoped that his first time wouldn't end in disaster. He had the very distinct feeling that he was about to be sorely disappointed. He heard a crash from somewhere in the house and he rushed in the direction it had come from. He found Ryan sitting in what looked like some kind of underused study, what looked like salt spread haphazardly around the room.

He kneeled down next to him, saying, “R-Ryan? Are you all right? Bullocks, what the hell happened?" He didn't respond, but he seemed to struggle to move.

"I- you need to- leave," he whispered, "P-please." With that his eyes closed and he seemed to lose consciousness. Gavin strung his hands under Ryan's arms and heaved him up.

"It'll be fine," he said, dragging him over to a chair so that he wouldn't have to put up with laying on the ground. Without the heavy weight of Ryan to hinder him he bent down and picked up a half-empty container of salt. "Now why do you have this?" He muttered quietly. He didn't know a lot about ghosts, but the night before he had had a lengthy conversation with Kdin on the subject. According to the man salt was a commonly used material to fend off spirits and other such undesirable things. Maybe that was why Ryan had it. But... why would he be trying to harm a ghost? Didn't he help them? Unless there was one that wasn't exactly friendly. He glanced back at Ryan, seeing the man start to stir. He gripped the container, pouring a handful of salt out of it. Carefully, he got up and backed up from the man. He flung the salt towards Ryan, eliciting a yelp from the man. His eyes shot open and without a doubt in his mind Gavin knew that whatever was in the room with him wasn't Ryan.

His mind flashed to the dream he'd had last night, the dark room and the figure he couldn't quite see. He didn't like the idea that he knew what was coming next.

"Now what was that for?" It asked in Ryan's voice. It slowly stood up and Gavin took another step back. "I don't recall ever doing anything to you. We're friends, right?"

Gavin's hands shook. "No," he whispered before he could stop the word from slipping past his lips.

The smile that had slowly been creeping into its face disappeared. He took a step forward but Gavin just ran out of the room and slammed the door shut. With shaking hands he spread salt at the base of the door, hoping to whatever deity existed that it would keep the thing masquerading as Ryan in the room. He heard the door rattle and open in, leaving the salt line unbroken. It tried to step forward, only to stop as if blocked in with an invisible barrier. It looked at Gavin, and he gulped. There was something so not human about that face. "There's no need for this. You know me, don't you, Gavin? You can trust me."

As soon as his name came out of its lips he almost went to break the salt line. He almost did, and that terrified him. He had actually believed it for a second. He shook his head, clutching the salt like a lifeline. As far as he knew it was the only thing keeping him from being absolutely murdered. With shaking hands he flung another fistful of salt at it and ran back to the living room that opened to the front door. He glanced Michael outside and ran to the car, hearing glass shatter somewhere behind him. He couldn't remember if there had been a window in the study.

"Gavin?" He sighed in relief when he was outside. Maybe he would be safe now that he was away from... whatever that was. "What the hell's going on?" He got out of the car and looked questioningly at the salt in his hands. "What's that for?"

"It's- I- there's a little bit of a, uh, really big problem." He heard grass crunch behind him and he felt the blood drain from his face. He turned and saw the ghost that was pretending to be his friend. Except this time it didn't look like it was trying to look human. There was a shadow over its eyes and what looked like a chair leg clutched in his hand. It had some glass shards embedded in it along with a few scratches that were bleeding on Ryan's hands. Gavin felt the urge to run, to get away, but just as he turned he felt something heavy impact the back of his head and his face was pressed into the dirt.

He half expected all sound to stop, like it had in his dream, but it didn't, reminding him that this was all too real. Michael's face hovered above him, and he could see the terror and confusion in his face. "Ryan?" He whispered, apparently not quite understanding what was going on. He had no idea how he couldn't see it, it was written all over his face that it wasn't Ryan.

"No," Gavin hissed out, feeling a foot press down on his ribs. He tried to roll out, move away, anything, but he couldn't. The pressure just increased with every attempt. It swung at Michael, trying to get him in the same position as Gavin. He seemed to dodge, though by his expression it wasn't intentional. He grabbed the piece of wood and yanked it out of Ryan's hands. With the newly acquired weapon he put it to immediate use, swinging as hard as he could at Ryan's chest. The thing inside him let out a gasp as the wind was knocked out of him and fell to the ground with a hard knock to the chin.

Gavin scrambled to his feet as the weight was lifted from his side. He backed away as quickly as he could from the prone body on the ground. "What the _fuck_ was that," Michael practically shouted.

"I think," Gavin mumbled, "That Ryan's going to have a really bad headache when he wakes up." He touched the back of his head, making sure there wasn't any blood or something like that. "I'm starting to get one too."

Michael looked like he was ready to punch Gavin in the face and leave him like Ryan. "Nope, you're not doing this. You're going to give me a straight answer and once I know what's going on I'll decide whether to help you or to leave you."

"You know what a possession is?"


	11. In which people try to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... a month between updates. Whoops? Sorry, but I'm working on like at least three other fics right now, and, well, this one wasn't on the top of the list to update. This part of the fic is almost over, the second part will come after a brief hiatus. Hope you're as excited as I am. Also, more Game Grumps cameos.

He jerked up, feeling the fatigue get chased away from his mind. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. What he'd done. He relaxed when he saw that he was in his own home, but it didn't help that his hand was bandaged and he felt bruises on his ribs. He got up and tried to walk, but his foot stopped in midair. He looked down and saw that he was in a salt circle. "What the fuck?" He muttered. He looked around, seeing Gavin passed out on his couch. "Gavin! What are you doing in my house?" He vaguely remembered seeing him before, before... whatever happened. Apparently his shouting woke him up because before he could properly process what was happening he was jumping back from salt being flung at him. The fact that it hurt him was just salt in the wound. Literally. "Jesus, what the fuck?"

"Who are you?" Gavin shouted, trying not to sound terrified. That only confused Ryan. Why would he be terrified? Suddenly the events from... however long ago resurfaced and he felt the blood drain from his face. Was he really that dangerous, to make Gavin look at him like that? Sometimes he really hated being a medium.

"What did I do?" He asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice. Gavin's eyebrows furrowed.

"I... Ryan?" The container of salt that he had been holding lowered, and a flood of relief passed across Gavin’s face.

"Yeah, did I do anything? Did I hurt anyone?" He looked around, trying to see if Michael was still there. He only vaguely remembered seeing him, but he wasn’t positive that it had been him. “Where’s Michael?”

"No," Ryan's shoulders sagged in relief. “And Michael’s not here. He went home, said something about ‘not understanding any of this ghost bullshit.’”

"Oh, thank God." That was one less person he had to worry about. Granted, he wished that Gavin had left as well, but maybe it was for the better that he was still there. He seemed to be more in tune with the supernatural then Michael was. He looked down at the circle he was still trapped in. "Can you... can you break the line, please?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." He swept it away with a foot and Ryan stepped out of it. As soon as he did he felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. He had to grab Gavin's shoulder for support. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," he managed, "I'm just... tired..." He trailed off, yawning loudly. A voice in the back of his mind was yelling at him, telling him to fight it, but he was too tired to care. He felt someone slap his face and he jolted awake again.

"Sorry, sorry, but you were freaking me out," Gavin apologized. He took a hesitant step back. "Actually, you're still freaking me out. What happened?"

"How should I know?" Ryan practically shouted. Even he had to flinch at the panic in his voice. He felt all his desperation come through his voice, even if he didn’t mean for it to. "All I know is that there's some maniac in my head and I can't control it. This only happened once, maybe twice, Gavin, and I had a friend to help me with it. I don't suppose you know everything there is to know about possessions?"

Gavin just stared at him. Ryan raised an eyebrow, wondering what he had said to get that reaction. "It... happened before?"

Ryan bit his lip hard, wincing in pain. He shuffled backwards a bit, nodding. "Yeah. I was in college. Met a girl named Suzy and a ghost named Dan. They knew how to help me." He rubbed his head with his sore hands. He saw Gavin's eyes widen when he saw the white scars dancing across the skin. For the first time in a while he was self-conscious of them. "I asked Ray to call her. Hopefully she'll either be here soon or someone else-"

He was cut off by an incessant ringing coming from his door. He glanced over at Gavin who looked just as confused as he did. Hopefully it was Suzy, or at least someone she sent to help him. He opened the door, seeing two men standing there. One looked significantly younger with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a few more bags weighing him down. The other was obviously older, standing in a way that suggested that he knew exactly what he was doing. The childish grin suggested that he didn't.

"Can I help you?" Ryan asked, feeling an irrational fear leap through him. He shook his head, determined not to let the ghost get the better of him. This wasn’t like the other times; this was longer, more drawn out. It wasn’t an instant that would haunt him for the rest of his life; it was an ongoing experience that seemed to be creating scars that would probably never fade. It just made him want this to be over even more.

"No, but I believe we can help you," the older one said. He held out his hand, saying, "I'm Barry. This is Kevin." Ryan took the hand, only to wrench it back as a terrible burning sensation seared its way past the meager bandages. Barry only nodded solemnly. "Suzy said it was a possession. I think we have just the thing to help you." Ryan noticed the iron rings on the man's fingers. He felt anger that wasn't his.

"Yeah?" He asked, feeling his feet move back a bit. The two strangers walked into his home and he frowned. He felt Geoff peek over his shoulder. Kevin jumped.

Ryan didn't turn around to look but he knew that the ghost had a giant grin on his face. "Oh, hey, Ryan, I think you found another medium."

"Shut the fuck up, Geoff," he shot back, shoving him away from them. Kevin's eyes only grew larger.

"You can touch them?" He asked, dropping all of the bags he had been holding onto the closest table. He looked way too excited considering the circumstances.

"Uh... yeah?" Ryan tried, glancing to see Geoff unusually solemn.

Kevin grinned. "Cool! I've heard of mediums that can do that, but I've never met one."

"Oh... so it's not normal?" Kevin just shook his head. "Sorry, I've never met another medium before. The closest I got was Suzy, but I guess she's not technically one."

"It's alright. I'm actually kind of glad that I can't. Mediums who can are usually more susceptible to possessions." Kevin blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "Which... I guess makes sense why you're in this situation."

"Yeah," Ryan muttered. "It's not fun. You're lucky that you've never been in this situation. It sucks. You don't really have a choice with what you do or what you feel sometimes."

"Yeah, Suzy once told me that very little in medium's lives are their own decision. It sucks sometimes, but you get used to it." Kevin shrugged and Ryan nodded solemnly. Geoff looked at Ryan with pity in his eyes.

"Alright, if you two are done with the bro bonding we can get this shit going," Barry said, not unkindly. They were taking this awfully casually. Well, they were sent by Suzy. Maybe they did shit like this every day.

Ryan scanned over the table they had set up. There were several containers of salt, iron bars, anything that was used to keep ghosts at bay. He raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to, like, kill me or something, right?"

Barry laughed at that. "No, 'course not. It's just a quick exorcism." Ryan felt a sudden surge of fear, irrational for him, but completely justified for the ghost. He knew he shouldn't let it get to him, but he rapidly felt himself breaking under the pressure that was being put on his mind. He was, admittedly, not the strongest of people. Sure, he’d been through shit like this before, but that didn’t make it any easier. And, according to Kevin, he was practically a beacon for ghost possession. He was lucky more hadn't happened to him. He just hoped that this one would be his last.

"Hey, I have to... I have to go to the bathroom," he said, not quite sure that it was him who said it. He felt his feet start moving and this time he was certain it wasn’t him who was doing it.

He was gone before Barry could finish saying, "I'm pretty sure you could just wait..."

He walked swiftly through the halls of his house, his knees almost buckling under him when he felt a huge wave of fatigue wash over him. He braced himself against the wall and grit his teeth. This time he was determined not to let the ghost get the better of him. At least not immediately. Whatever he could do to hinder the ghost was another moment that Barry and Kevin could figure out how to get it out of his head. The shadowy figure from before materialized in front of him. They seemed impatient. "Give me control," the voice echoed around him and in his head. "And I promise I won't hurt your friends."

Ryan shook his head and ground out, "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Because I am a man of my word, and on top of that you really don't have a choice. I could take it by force, but that wouldn't benefit either of us."

Ryan shot him a glare. He could hear Gavin walking towards him, probably to check on him. The way he saw it was he could either let the maniac into his head and ensure the safety of the people in his house, or he could refuse and be down three friends. He felt his vision go black as he nodded.

-.-

He opened his eyes to see shadowy and vague figures talking to each other. He tried to move out of instinct, but found that he couldn't move, at least not of his own accord. He couldn't really hear what was going on, either. It was like his ears were filled with cotton and he seriously needed glasses. He decided to just sit back and watch what happened, the image sharpening and the voices becoming more defined. Somehow he knew that this wasn’t real. It was a vision, a memory maybe.

"... and it's not like it's the end of the world or something. You're young, enjoy the world." A woman was saying to him. “You don’t have to leave just yet. There’s still so much time left.” Around her ghosts lingered, seemingly unaware that they were there or that they were dead. He felt his head nod.

"I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but I must be going." He felt himself get up and suddenly the image changed. He was walking through the streets when someone grabbed his arm, wrenching him back.

Ryan felt someone breathe on his neck, the cold hands of ghosts gripping him along with whoever was behind him. He heard the person behind him say something before a knife was pushed into his back. He heard himself scream, he felt himself fall down and begin to bleed out. The man's face swam above him as he said something else, something Ryan couldn't really hear. It sounded gruff and mean, cruel to the point that he would kill because of it.

He looked around, this time not tethered to a body. The same man from before was deep in the forest, digging a deep and dark hole. The man threw something inside and Ryan seemed to understand that it was the ghost's body, left to rot far in the forest where no one would ever think to look.

The dream ended with a cottony blackness resting over his eyes, as his ears picked up sounds that he processed as all that was going on around him as the ghost possessed his body. He only hoped no one would get hurt, but from the vision he had just witnessed it was very likely a spirit out for revenge.


End file.
